


High by the Beach

by skelton



Series: "Borrowing" inspiration from songs [1]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/F, hint: they smoke weed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-06
Updated: 2016-05-06
Packaged: 2018-06-06 19:31:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6766978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skelton/pseuds/skelton
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Clarke has a mid-life crisis and luck leads her to a stranger on a beach.</p>
            </blockquote>





	High by the Beach

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by Lana Del Rey. 
> 
> These will normally only include one song as a theme, but Comfortably Numb fit in so well when I was writing this it ended up here too. My friends and I joke that just listening to the song makes you high. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy.

Clarke shut the front door to her apartment behind her and felt the weight of the day begin to drift off of her shoulders at the comfort of being in her own space. She relished the quiet for all of three seconds until she suddenly felt like someone else was there and then-

 

“SURPRISE!”

 

“Jesus fuck,” Clarke breathed, her hand going to her chest as smiling people jumped out from behind the couch, kitchen island and bedroom doors.

 

“Happy birthday, Clarke!” Raven said, stepping forward from the crowd of people. “Pretty sure we surprised her,” a smug smile came over her face. Clarke began to distinguish familiar faces in the crowd; there was Bellamy, Octavia and Lincoln, Jasper, Monty and, of course, Finn. Music started up as Octavia and Finn came over to her.

 

“Happy birthday, babe,” he said, arms looping around her and head dropping to give her a light kiss. 

 

“Happy birthday!” Octavia said with a wide grin. Clarke did her best to muster a smile, but the last thing she wanted was a surprise birthday party. 

 

“Thanks guys. I...wow...didn’t expect this,” she said taking a little step back. “I’m pretty beat from work.” 

 

“Aww, Clarke, I thought work wasn’t being as hard on you recently?” Octavia said with a not-so-subtle glance to Finn.

 

“Ah, actually it’s been even worse. There’s been a load of budget cuts from the board so I’ve had to pick up another gallery to run since they had to fire the other director.” 

 

“She’s been doing the best she can,” Finn added. 

 

“Yes, she has,” Clarke said with a bit too much bite. Octavia’s eyebrow quirked slightly, but she didn’t say anything and graciously offered Clarke a drink instead, making her escape. 

 

“Why so tetchy?” Finn huffed and  _ god _ Clarke did not need this. 

 

“Finn, why have you let this happen? I’m fucking knackered from work and you know that. I don’t want or need a party. I’m not eighteen anymore for Christ’s sake.” 

 

A cloud of anger came over Finn’s expression, “Sorry for making an effort, Clarke. I’m trying to give you a fun time. Maybe then you’ll actually act like a human again instead of some robot.” 

 

“Do you hear yourself right now? You think throwing some shitty party is going to fix this? You absolute assho-”

 

“Hey Clarke!” Jasper grinned as he walked over to her holding a large, poorly wrapped present, Monty and Bellamy in tow. 

 

She forced another smile, an acting skill she’d perfected over the last few months through regular practise, and gave each of the men a hug. 

 

“For you,” Jasper said, holding out the present with a slight bow.

 

“How kind,” she said as she accepted the colourfully wrapped box. 

 

“We try,” Bellamy said, a hand placed humbly on his chest. Clarke smiled genuinely at that and placed a hand on his arm, perhaps caressing a little too much, but certainly getting the desired reaction from Finn. He huffed and walked away. 

 

“Trouble in paradise?” Monty asked lightly.

 

“You have no idea,” Clarke muttered, meeting Octavia’s eye as she held up what Clarke hoped was a very strong drink.

 

**********************

 

The next day was a Saturday and Clarke only allowed herself a small lay in before showering, grabbing a box of the sugariest cereal in her apartment which turned out to be Coco Pops, her keys and going for a drive. She needed a break. 

 

Finn was still asleep when she left, unsurprisingly and thankfully, so Clarke didn’t have to deal with any morning awkwardness following their petty back and forth last night at the party. She drove out on the main road, leaving the increasingly bustling town behind her until about twenty minutes into her drive when she hit a queue of traffic on the single lane road. She huffed. Just her luck.

 

She shuffled around in her seat to try and see the cause of the delay and caught a glimpse of a car in the ditch to the right of the road. She settled back in her seat and turned down the radio, trying to be zen about the fact the cars ahead were darting around the blocked lane whenever there was a gap in the oncoming traffic. It was going to take forever to get through. A black BMW got back into their lane just in time after pulling out in front of a four by four, making Clarke wince at the close call and predictable blare of a car horn. She rolled down her window and peered into the trees by the side of the road to avoid giving herself a heart attack at the stupidity of some drivers. 

 

The cars inched forward every minute or so, but Clarke gave up on moving until there was actually a good few feet in front of her. It was after she’d just pulled forward when she heard it. “It” being the sound of...waves? It sounded like a beach, waves crashing into sand. Clarke knew the sea was nearby but didn’t think there was any beach to be spoken of. She angled her head. Yeah, there was definitely a beach somewhere on the other side of those trees. She leaned out the window a little, looking for any sign of an access road. 

 

She found one just a few yards down from the accident. It wasn’t sign posted and looked to be just a dirt track; but Clarke didn’t have anywhere to be so she decided to take the turning after she finally made it past the crashed cars. Who knows what she’d find? 

 

At the very least, a place to sit and eat her Coco Pops. 

 

**********************

 

What she found was a lovely, cute, secluded spot. The dirt track led her through the trees to a small opening where she parked and picked up her box of cereal. She walked towards the sound of the water and after a minute or so the trees became sparse and she saw what appeared to be an old sea wall. Beyond it was a beach, surrounded by grassy sand dunes. 

 

Clarke couldn’t help the large grin that pulled at her lips. There was no one around, not a soul in sight. She could barely hear the road behind her, but could clearly hear birds and the rustling of the light breeze through the copse.

 

She stepped over to the wall, only a foot or so high on this side but a few feet the other, and settled down. She opened her cereal and began crunching her way through it. Her feet swung against the wall absently as she took in the sight before her.

 

What a precious place.

 

**********************

 

“So, Clarke, how’s work?” Her mother asked. Clarke shrugged.

 

“Pretty tiring nowadays, they’ve laid some people off so I’m picking up their responsibilities. I’ve got three new exhibitions to launch in the next two weeks and hardly any staff to pull it off.”

 

Clarke was having a late birthday lunch with her mother, exactly a week after she’d found that lovely place outside of town. She’d gone back there once with a sketchbook and relished a few hours of serenity seeing as the rest of life didn’t seem to include that in the package. Time appeared to fly when she was relaxed there, unlike when she was dealing with the stresses of her relationship and job at home. Then, hours seems to last for days. It was painful. 

 

Her mother smiled, “Well, that’s good news! You’ll be getting a promotion soon for all that extra work.” 

 

“I’m not sure about that,” Clarke deflected, taking a tentative bite of steak. “They’re looking for someone to become a regional director, basically condensing the directors’ jobs into one.”

 

“And that will be you,” Abby smiled proudly but her tone was kind of forceful. Clarke sighed. Here we go again. “You’ve got greatness in your bones, Clarke. Your father was great at his job and with hard work you will be recognised and rewarded. Just as I was, you know.”

 

“Rewarded with what? More work?”

 

Her mother blinked, “Well, yes, that’s generally how it works, dear. And a higher pay, of course. Have they dropped any hints?” 

 

“Not really. Well, Jaha has brought it up to me a few times and said it's a similar position to what I’m doing right now, about the same workload. He enjoys asserting himself in any way he can, though, so I don’t think much of it.” She took a few sips of water and bites of food. “What does ‘hard work’ even mean? Working more than I need to just to be paid the same salary? In hopes of  _ maybe _ getting an extra few grand a year?” Clarke wasn’t in the mood to let Abby spout all her aphorisms today.

 

“Clarke, why do you have to be like this? I’m just trying to help you appreciate the opportunities you have. You could get that job and you know it. You’re smart and can manage people, lead a team through thick and thin. You could probably buy a house on that salary, with a mortgage of course.” 

 

“The debt spiral begins,” Clarke muttered. Her mother chose to ignore her and unashamedly changed the subject.

 

“The hospital has been great recently. Marcus has implemented new plans for better organisation which means we can have more patients cycled through the system…”  _ Cycled through the system _ ? Jesus, what had her mother become? These were people who needed help. She continued nibbling at the steak and doing her best ‘Ahh’ and ‘Mmm’ sounds to maintain the faint illusion of interest. “...and he so graciously accepted so you needn’t worry about coming to another event, dear, it seems Marcus is a willing replacement as my plus-one!”

 

“Great,” Clarke said with a thin lipped grin. She liked Marcus, she did, he was a great guy. Her mother was the one she had a problem with. She felt sorry the poor man hadn’t seen it yet. He would, one day, just as her father had and just as she had when she was old enough. 

 

As if this conversation could get any worse than her dear mother’s pressurising and veiled criticisms.

 

“Speaking of plus-ones, how’s Finn?” 

 

Oh, brilliant.

 

**********************

 

Clarke drove straight to the little beach she found after lunch with her mother was over. She needed some peace before returning to her apartment and Finn. She just couldn’t go from one tension filled relationship to another without some kind of respite in between. Her mother’s behaviour she had learnt to expect over the years but she still struggled with Finn. He used to be a different person: he’d be able to read her so well. He was kind and attentive. When Clarke first started working more and more, she didn’t see him nearly as much and  _ of course _ she understood the strain it would put on their relationship. She was more stressed out, more irritable and sometimes downright rude. 

 

But...she couldn’t help but feel disappointed that the guy who seemed so devoted to her couldn’t handle a shift in their dynamic. Was she in the wrong? She wasn’t sure. They just didn’t seem as though they were on the same side anymore. And Finn’s attempts to help really just showed Clarke how little he knew her. He ended up apologising for the party and explaining that he did it because he thought she would like having a drunken night with their friends again. He didn’t seem to realise that dealing with the social pressures of a party (“Oh, Clarke, we haven’t seen you at the coffee house in weeks!”, “Oh, Clarke, I didn’t realise  _ managing _ art was much of a career?”, “Oh, Clarke, how have you and your mum been since Jake passed?”) were the complete opposite of what she needed. What she needed right now, was some alone time.

 

Unfortunately, however, it seemed some alone time was not meant to be. 

 

As Clarke parked, she eyed the classic gun-grey Porsche that was already tucked into the small clearing warily. It must have been at least forty years old. The image of some old, white rich guy who was most likely the car’s owner being on the beach made her heart ache. Why couldn’t this place stay  _ hers _ ? It was incredibly disappointing to think some other person, or people, even knew it existed; despite how naive Clarke knew she was in hoping so.

 

Clarke made her way to the beach, sketch book tucked under her arm, and frowned at what she found. There was a woman sitting on the wall with long brown hair and her back to her. Clarke wasn’t really sure what to do at this point. She didn’t want to interupt this woman’s peace, or go back home for that matter. She stood there in silence god knew how long before a voice carried on the sea breeze. 

 

“You can come and sit, you know.” 

 

Clarke startled slightly, looking around her to make sure no one else was there. Nope, just her. The woman was talking to  _ her _ . She swallowed and walked to the wall, carefully sitting down a generous distance from the brunette. 

 

“How did you know-”

 

“I heard a car,” the woman dismissed. She turned to Clarke and she instantly felt it. This woman wasn’t just looking at her, she was analysing her. And Clarke was doing the same. The weight of their gaze was almost tangible. Clarke had never felt such a connection before, “So,” the woman started just as Clarke began to find the silence unbearable, “you’re the one who’s been coming here this last week.”

 

Clarke nodded, “You’re the one who owns that beautiful car.”

 

“That I am,” she acknowledged with a small smile. “I’m Lexa.”

 

“Clarke...and, I can come back another time, I didn’t mean to-”

 

“Don’t, it’s fine.”

 

The interruptions were becoming just a little irritating but Clarke decided to stay quiet. She really shouldn’t pick a fight with absolutely everyone she comes across. Lexa looked away from her and back across the beach. Clarke took in the high cheekbones and amazing jawline as she noticed the shadow on her skin from clenching and unclenching her teeth. Lexa was beyond beautiful.

 

Not exactly what Clarke expected the owner of such a car to look like, the image of that old man evaporating and pleasantly replaced with the brunette. 

 

“What brings you here?”

 

“I was having a bad week and went for a drive, stumbled across this place. It’s peaceful.”

 

Lexa hummed in agreement, “It is. Nice escape from all that back there,” she gestured behind them. 

  
“Exactly,” Clarke agreed with a soft smile. Silence fell over them but Clarke wanted Lexa to talk more. She wanted to know who she was, if she was searching for something just as Clarke was. She looked to be a similar age, maybe she was having a nihilistic crisis too? Was it bad that Clarke hoped she was? After a few moments, she got up the courage to break the quiet.

 

“How did you know I’d been coming here? I haven’t seen you before.”

 

“Car tracks that weren’t mine. I’m kind of astute like that,” Lexa shrugged. “I come here everyday so it’s not hard to notice when something is different.”

 

“How did you find this place?”

 

“Oh, I’ve always known about it,” Lexa said and Clarke thought that was it until she began speaking again a few moments later, “We’re lucky. All those people in those cars driving past? They’re too focussed on getting to their job, or their friends’ Facebook event or whatever the fuck people do nowadays to notice a place like this.”

 

“I noticed it,” Clarke said quietly, not attempting to hide her pride. 

 

“Yeah,” Lexa agreed, turning to her once again, the weight of her gaze making Clarke feel flustered and self-conscious, “You did.”

 

Clarke couldn’t stand the very real possibility of squirming under Lexa’s watchful eye and so forced herself to look away and pick up her sketchbook. She pulled out a pencil from the bindings and flipped it open, eyes scanning the landscape to find a point of focus that wasn’t the gorgeous girl next to her. 

 

“Ah. You’re an artist,” Lexa said with finality, like she was judging her in some way. Clarke couldn’t tell if it was negative or positive. 

 

“Not professionally.”

 

“Why not?”

 

The question was so simple. Not at all loaded like similar questions she’d received at the party. Why wasn’t she a professional artist? For all Lexa knew she could be dreadful. She wasn’t. Clarke knew she was a good artist. So...why wasn’t she a professional? Why was she behind the scenes, rather than in the spotlight? 

 

The question jarred her. Her roaming eyes settled on the line separating the damp sand from the dry.

 

After a moment she spoke up, “That’s...a very personal question.” 

 

“This is a very personal place,” was Lexa’s quick and easy response. 

 

“Oh?” Clarke risked a look at the brunette. 

 

“For me, it is,” Lexa nodded, eyes looking down at the sand, “I think, maybe, it could be for you, as well. You found it, that’s a good start. Things can be simple here, it’s why I like it. Confronting things is always scary but at least here it can be done without the pressures of… _ that _ .” Once again, she gestured behind them to the road. Clarke really wasn’t sure what made her carry on talking to the brunette. She didn’t know her, she could literally be anyone but she just...felt like it. Talking to a stranger, someone new, someone  _ interesting _ was...refreshing. The fact she was drop dead gorgeous didn’t hurt. 

 

“At a guess, I would have thought you came here for peace and silence, not philosophical discussion.”

 

“Why would you think that?” A smirk came over Lexa’s expression and okay, wow that was sexy. “I just normally have these conversations in my head.”

 

“That’s what most people would do, get away from the nine-to-five you know? Not worry about the big picture.”

 

“What makes you think I’m like ‘most people’?”

 

Clarke couldn’t answer that, so she didn’t, and after a pause she spoke “You have deep discussions with yourself, alone, by the beach?” she smiled at the thought, the image of this stranger coming here in her fancy old Porsche and having a back and forth in her mind about the meanings of life so unique it made her swell with affection. 

 

“Don’t knock it ‘til you’ve tried it, Clarke,” Lexa replied, smirk firmly still in place and a raised eyebrow. 

 

“Maybe I should try it, you seem to be much further along the road to self discovery than I am.”  _ God _ this was so easy. How was this so easy?

 

“What makes you say that?”

 

Clarke huffed slightly, “Attentive questions just like that.”

 

“Well, I have been thinking like this for a while now,” Lexa conceded, the smirk and eyebrow falling.

 

“Who would have thought I’d stumble across our generation’s Plato?” Clarke didn’t know how it was so easy, but she was very pleased that, somehow, she was managing to hold the conversation, “When did your philosophical tendencies emerge then?”

 

A strangely proud look came over Lexa’s face. Clarke thought it was pride, at least, she had a small smile and her eyes shone with  _ something _ .

 

“The first time I came here, I listened to Pink Floyd and got high, I’d never smoked much before. It was such a great night. I never looked at life the same after that. Sometimes I think so many people are victims of expectation. Then I just think they’re stupid fuckers who can’t be bothered to  _ see _ …I decided to stop being blind.”

 

“How old were you?” 

 

“Seventeen.”

 

“And now?”

 

“Twenty five.”

 

“I’ve never met anyone like you before,” Clarke murmured after a moment. She hadn’t really meant to say it out loud, this woman was a stranger and Clarke spoke with such reverence she made it sound like she thought she was some precious discovery. Maybe she was. The twisting in her stomach kind of told her she was.  

 

Lexa looked over at her, a small smile tugging at her lips, “What a line.”

 

Clarke blushed and spoke with a slight air of defiance, “I didn’t mean it like that.”

 

“I know,” Lexa relented and Clarke was thankful for the break. “So, I’m going to smoke now. That’s why I come here. You’re welcome to join or…” Lexa gestured with her hand aimlessly. Clarke shrugged. 

  
“I interrupted you, you can do what you want.” 

 

“I wasn’t really asking for permission,” Lexa smirked as she stood and walked over to a black backpack resting against the wall. Clarke felt self-conscious  _ again _ . Of course Lexa wasn’t asking for permission, she was a nobody. “More offering if you wanted to join me or just chill out.”

  
“I’m fine, thank you,” Clarke declined with overt politeness. Where did that come from? She’d never sounded more like the middle-class white woman she despised. 

 

Lexa hummed and raised her eyebrows in a skeptical expression that Clarke chose to ignore and got a little bag with weed, papers and filters out of her backpack. Clarke did her best to seem as disinterested as possible but in truth she wanted to watch as Lexa, with clear experience and skill, arranged the drug and began rolling the paper. She hadn’t smoked since college and she’d never been the one to sort out the joint. She’d just enjoyed the end result, which was usually bouts of giggles and stupid exclamations until she’d smoked enough for those effects to wear off and she’d lost sight of the point. 

 

As Lexa began to smoke, she became more relaxed and less...challenging. They didn’t talk all that much as she got high, Clarke went back to sketching and Lexa put some music on. She made the odd comment about “the surreal nature of modern life”, then immediately counteracting that with some hilarious exclamation about how much she loved candles and how greatly significant they were to her life ethos. 

 

Clarke spent the remainder of her afternoon relaxing in her not-so-secret spot by the beach with a woman that was not-so-much of a stranger and certainly the most curious individual she’d ever met. After spending barely any time with her Clarke wanted to know her. She felt like she  _ fit _ .

  
As she drove home, the evening sun dipping below the trees, Clarke did her best not to descend into what felt like an inevitable existential crisis. 

 

Alas, when she got home and shut the door, the sounds of Finn making dinner round the corner in the kitchen floating through to her, the realities of her life hit her like a stone wall. 

 

Existential crisis it is, then.

 

**********************

 

“I’m losing interest in life and I’m only twenty three. How fucked up is that? Aren’t middle-aged people supposed to be the ones having issues with the meaning of life?”

 

It had been a whole two weeks of driving to the beach whenever she could and meeting Lexa. She had made it everyday, except twice. Clarke was becoming scarily dependent on not only the location but the honestly amazing woman she met there. Inevitably, they talked. Talked for hours, cumulatively they must have been talking for days. They spoke about life, expectations and Clarke, mostly. Lexa didn’t really open up but she appeared fascinated by Clarke’s snippets of information about her life. It kind of felt like Lexa was trying to fix her, from what Clarke was pretty sure neither of them really knew, but she didn’t mind. It felt good to have someone care about her, for some to get her again. 

 

Lexa’s eyes dragged over the landscape before them. Clarke watched her analyse the waves and the shallow dunes. 

 

“You don’t like your life?”

 

“No.”

 

“Change it.”

 

“Oh yeah, thanks, it’s really that simple.” 

 

Lexa’s head turned back towards her and her eyebrows rose, “It really is.”

 

Clarke tried not to sound  _ too _ exasperated when she next spoke, “You really don’t know much about me, Lexa.”

 

“Your job drains you. You’d rather paint than manage gallery openings for artists in a position you wish you could be. Your boyfriend misunderstands your pain, your mother exacerbates it-”

 

“Please stop fucking telling me how shitty my life is,” Clarke said, her voice rising slightly. 

 

“Clarke,” Lexa said softly with a slight shake of her head. “Let me help you.”

 

Clarke almost couldn’t take the confrontation. She’d been skirting around the reason why she kept coming back to this spot, to see Lexa, since she returned after their first chance meeting. She hadn’t allowed her brain to settle on the topic when she was back in her day to day life, it was too much, it started to make her feel like she was two people. And now here she was, in front of Lexa and on the verge of some kind of panic attack because she couldn’t deal with the fact that she thought she was doomed to a completely unfulfilling life... and that there appeared to be this one tiny  _ sliver _ of hope that it could change. And that was this woman in front of her. It was too much. 

 

Almost.

 

“Clarke, I want to try something. I think it will help,” Lexa said softly as Clarke remained silent. “I think I can relate to how you feel...in some way, when I was younger I thought the same things about life. What’s the point? I, er, found this really helps.” She lifted her backpack, which Clarke knew held her stash, and proceeded to gather her bag to roll a joint. “It’s not like when you smoked in college, I bet that was some shit skunk, this…” Lexa trailed off as she held the bag of marijuana, “this is almost spiritual to me.”

 

“No offence, Lex, but I don’t think getting high is really going to help my long term prospects,” Clarke said with a strained voice. What was she doing? Insulting the one woman who was trying to help her? It didn’t seem to phase Lexa, however, who just smiled ruefully and took Clarke’s hand. She walked over to the wall, hopping down onto the sand and tugging Clarke to follow. 

 

“It will unlock your mind,” she said simply. She sat cross legged in the sand and rolled the joint. Clarke took the few moments that Lexa was busy to gaze around the small beach. The dull roar of the road far behind them provided an irritatingly familiar reminder of her life outside of this secret spot. When Lexa was done, she patted the sand next to her and Clarke resigned herself to her fate. 

 

“You really think it will help?” Clarke asked, gesturing to the joint. Lexa nodded, her expression and her eyes, god her  _ eyes _ , completely sincere. This obviously meant a lot to her. Clarke knew that.

  
After all, how could she say no to Lexa?

 

She watched as the brunette lit the end and took a long drag, then held it out for Clarke as she released the smoke. Clarke looked at it for a moment, then back to Lexa, before taking the joint and raising it to her lips. 

  
She coughed like a no tomorrow at first; then her throat settled and she and Lexa fell into a pattern of passing the joint between them. 

 

Steadily, as she began to feel the effects, she wondered what all her friends and family would think of Clarke Griffin “unlocking her mind” by getting high with some beautiful girl by the beach.

 

**********************

 

Ten minutes later and Clarke was certain she’d had enough. Yeah, she felt wavey. Yeah, she felt kind of good. But she also felt like this was pretty pointless.Then Lexa started talking.

 

“Relax, Clarke. Just...  _ be _ ,” Lexa said softly. Her voice had a weight to it Clarke had never noticed before, “Close your eyes and feel.” Clarke’s head felt light and airy, she felt almost separate from her body. Lexa reached for her pocket, bringing out her phone and after a few moments she heard some strange repetitive voices coming floating towards her. “Trust me, Clarke.”

 

Lexa placed her phone on the beach, reached over and gently nudged Clarke’s shoulder so she that she lay down. Clarke settled in the sand, the voices repeating and repeating until they cut off in a wall of sound. Music started and it made Clarke feel  _ so  _ relaxed. 

 

_ Hello, is there anybody in there? _

 

Clarke was vaguely aware of Lexa puffing from the remains of the joint, quietly singing along.

 

_ Just nod if you can hear me. _

 

Clarke felt herself nodding, her hair scraping against the sand. The grit felt so intense. She was otherworldly and alone. 

 

_ Is there anyone home? _

 

“Are you okay, Clarke?” Lexa asked. Clarke just carried on nodding. Could she speak? She wasn’t sure what she would say. The music continued, the man’s voice so soothing and perfect that Clarke’s eyes shut and she gently stroked her fingers over the sand. Her left hand brushed Lexa’s and she felt the other woman grip it, squeezing slightly. Lexa’s thumb began to caress the back of her hand.

 

The sun was hot. It was nice.  _ This _ was nice. Maybe it didn’t need a point. Maybe that  _ was _ the point. She couldn’t think in long sentences anymore. Lexa was singing along. Clarke had never felt so present. 

 

_ Come on, now. _

_ I hear you’re feeling down. _

 

She felt a shadow fall over her and slowly opened one eye to find Lexa hovering above, the sun’s light desperately arching around her in its attempt to reach the earth. She brought Clarke’s hand up that she was holding and gently kissed her knuckles. Clarke felt as though she was rooted through Lexa’s touch. The woman’s lips continued to move to the song, Clarke could feel her breath on her hand as she broke from her kisses. 

 

“ _ Relax _ ,” Lexa sang lowly, her eyes steady and constant on Clarke’s. She swallowed and tugged on Lexa’s hand, drawing her back to the sand but this time shoulder to shoulder. She turned her head, following Lexa as she slowly settled, never breaking eye contact. “ _ Can you show me where it hurts _ ?”

 

God, it hurt everywhere. But, in that moment, Clarke felt a multitude of emotions and the hurt was small, behind it all. Shoved to the back like it should be, put in its place: recognised but insignificant.

 

Clarke reached over with her free hand, curiously aware of the air drifting between her fingers, and brought it to Lexa’s lips. They looked so indescribably welcoming. She lightly ghosted her fingertips across them, silencing Lexa’s mellow voice. She could feel Lexa’s eyes on her, her hand anchoring her; Clarke’s senses seemed to tunnel around her beautiful secret stranger. Her Lexa. She felt the tug to look back into Lexa’s eyes, so she did. 

 

They burned into her. Clarke was a goner. 

 

_ There is no pain, you are receding.  _

  
Clarke was. She was receding. Sinking into the sand and she  _ wanted _ to be gone, gone with Lexa and the sun and  _ this fucking song _ . 

 

**********************

 

“Clarke, please, we need to talk,” Finn practically pleaded with her. She had just gotten in from work and was stripping down to change, quickly grab a drink, then head over to the beach to meet Lexa. Finn had other ideas.

 

“I’m going out,” Clarke stated dryly. 

 

Finn swallowed and licked his lips, “Why won’t you talk to me anymore?”

 

“I… I don’t know  _ how _ to talk to you anymore,” Clarke said quietly, pulling on jeans and a tshirt, then reaching for her bomber jacket. She felt Finn come up behind her and place a hand on her waist.  _ Wrong _ , her mind reacted. This was wrong. 

 

“We need to try, give us a chance.”

 

Clarke whirled around to face him, “Me? Me, give  _ us _ a chance? You’re the one who doesn’t do shit anymore, Finn. I’m working my ass off to-” Clarke faltered. Fuck. Not this again, “to do better,” she settled on before continuing, hoping that didn’t sound as pathetically fake to Finn as it did to her, “and you’re blaming me for being tired and tetchy!”

 

“What do you expect? I’m supposed to be your boyfriend and all I get to see of you is five minutes when you get in from work before you go off to god knows where, seeing god knows who-” Finn stopped mid-sentence as if struck dumb. “You’re fucking Bellamy, aren’t you?”

 

Disgust weaved it’s way into Clarke’s bones. Finn, the sweet guy from college, now the guy who not only made her feel like shit when she was working so hard but also the guy who accused her of sleeping with his friend. She let her feelings paint across her features as she shoved past him, grabbing her keys and slamming the door behind her. 

 

What was this life doing to her? Who was she becoming?

 

As she drove to the beach, she realised she repulsed herself.

 

**********************

 

“Clarke, that’s beautiful,” Lexa smiled at her. Clarke’s self-hatred seemed to be drawn from her, Lexa’s smile making it seep out of her muscles and whisk away on the breeze. 

 

She looked down at the sketch of a cormorant on the beach, “It’s just a simple sketch.”

 

“No, Clarke,  _ this _ is a simple sketch,” Lexa said, flipping over to a new page and snatching the pencil from Clarke, leaning dangerously close and quickly drawing a stick man and dog. Clarke couldn’t help but laugh. 

 

“Could be a new modernist art style, you know,” Clarke mused, turning the page slightly so it was at a quirky angle. 

 

“Put it in one of your galleries for me?” Lexa asked and Clarke’s stomach lurched at her words. Lexa was  _ so close _ . 

 

“You’d have to seriously impress me to get this up in a gallery. Or bribe me, you could do that.” 

 

“I disagree with the concept of currency,” Lexa dismissed, leaning back slightly. Clarke immediately missed her proximity.

 

“Of course you do.”

 

“I can bribe you in some other way,” she raised an eyebrow.

 

“ _ Lexa _ .”

 

“Clarke.”

 

“I have a boyfriend,” the words felt bitter on Clarke’s tongue. 

 

“I am painfully aware, yes.” 

 

Clarke couldn’t help but smile. She’d told Lexa a few things about Finn and to say that the woman wasn’t impressed would be the understatement of the century. 

  
Lexa continued, “Polygamy gets a bad rap, you know.” 

 

“You can’t be serious.”

 

“Oh, I’m completely serious, Clarke,” Lexa said, turning to her with such a frown she knew Lexa must have been putting it on. “Don’t let society dictate how many people you solemnly swear to fuck for the rest of your life.”

 

“Trust me, I’m not letting society tell me to swear to fuck Finn for the rest of my life, in any form of marital set-up.”

 

“Well,” Lexa dusted off her hands and rolled her shoulders before clasping them together again in front of her, “I’m glad that’s settled. Now, back to rolling lessons. Your last one was more of a joke than the UN.”  

 

“Must be because my teacher is more concerned with cracking shitty political jokes than actually coaching me.”

 

“Let’s not project, Clarke, it’s bad for the soul.” 

 

Clarke looked at Lexa, the two staring at each other with deliberate passivity until Lexa’s lip quirked up and they both started laughing. They were both useless and Clarke  _ loved _ it. 

  
When she was on the beach with Lexa, Clarke felt light and free. 

 

And she swore it wasn’t just the weed. 

 

**********************

 

A month later, when Clarke arrived at the beach at the usual time, her heart dropped at the absence of the Porsche. Lexa wasn’t here. Why wasn’t she here? She was always at the beach before Clarke showed up, without fail.

 

She made her way over to the sea wall, sat down with her sketchbook and looked around aimlessly. Lexa definitely wasn’t here. 

 

As the hours passed and the half-assed sketches filled up a few pages of Clarke’s book she tried not to miss the woman too much. She really did. 

 

She really, really failed.  

 

**********************

 

“Miss Griffin!” 

 

Clarke glanced up from the multitude of papers in front of her. She had schedules and proposals coming out of her pores, she swore. It was Jaha, her boss. She tried to school her features and look like she at least had some grasp of what she was doing. There was just  _ so much _ work. She had to-do lists for her to-do lists. They still hadn’t hired a regional director. Clarke was burning out. 

 

“How can I help, sir?” 

 

“Have you got a few minutes? I’d like to go for a walk,” Jaha’s expression was passive, deliberately Clarke was certain. She tried not to think what the hell this could mean. Was she getting the promotion? Was her mother actually right? She dare not think about it. So, she nodded and placed the proposal for a moving, interactive exhibit for the summer season back on the desk. She reached for her blazer and followed the man out of the small set of offices and into the littlel, dilapidated park opposite. Jaha lit a cigarette, offering one to Clarke which she promptly refused. 

 

It made her think of Lexa’s rant about how tobacco smokers were ruining weed by always using it when they smoked.  _ People can’t just enjoy one thing at a time, can they? It’s always tobacco  _ and  _ weed, watch TV  _ and _ live tweet it.  _ Clarke managed to stop her when she started waving around phrases like ‘purity is dead’ with a joke about how much she sounded like she supported social cleansing. The brunette just descended into mutterings about ‘fucking hipsters’ and ‘shitty superiority complexes’. 

 

“Clarke?”

 

Jaha’s voice jolted her from the memory. Shit. Focus. 

 

“Sorry, sir, just taking in the nature. Nice to be outside,” Clarke managed to string together. As she looked around her, however, she realised that wow, this really wasn’t what she would call  _ nature _ . There was more concrete and grey in this “park” that it surely shouldn’t be called such. Don’t think about the beach, don’t think about the beach. Focus. 

  
“Yes, it’s nice to be out and about. So, I’ll get right to it. I’m sure you’ve heard we’ve been looking for a regional director given the cuts. Your work covering those we’ve had to let go has been greatly appreciated…” Clarke loathed that phrase “had to let go”. Let them go, like it was something the employee wanted and the company grudgingly accepted. They left them without a job because head office fucked up, that’s what happened. “...and I’ll certainly be writing you a brilliant reference. Honestly, you were considered for the post but unfortunately the board decided to go for someone a little older. They wanted to have someone who could fully commit, long term with the...prowess that really only comes from experience.”

 

Sorry, what had just happened? Did...no...Clarke swallowed and stopped walking, turning to Jaha. He barely could look at her. His eyes were glancing all over, from his feet to the fence, to a spot just above her head. 

 

“I’ve...I’ve lost my job?” Clarke hated the way her voice wavered. 

 

“Sadly, yes. We’ve had to rescind your position now that we have a regional post. You can work for another week or just process the handover to the regional and finish. It’s up to you, you’ll be paid either way. Mr Wallace will be here tomorrow and Friday to handover.”

 

Clarke couldn’t believe it. She had worked  _ so fucking hard _ for months. Months. Not even really wanting a promotion but at least securing her own job. Her relationship with Finn had suffered, with her friends, put strain on an already strained relationship with her mother. For what? 

 

So she could be “let go”. 

 

Hard work gets you places, does it mother? 

 

Jaha cleared his throat, “Like I said, I personally really appreciate your work and I’ll give you a stellar reference.”

 

Did he want her thanks? Did he want her to make him feel better? Fuck that. 

 

“I’ll complete the handover, sir, then I’ll get out of your way. I’m sure the new director will want to rally the team right away,” Clarke tried to sound as measured as possible. But, god, was she fuming. She couldn’t help but feel like Jaha had used her. Kept her on as an interim to keep things going until they hired the new guy. They could of had the courtesy to tell her earlier, so she could look for another job. They must have known from the start. 

 

“Of course, if that’s what you want. I’ll have a reference and all the paperwork emailed to you by Monday. I’ll, er, let you get back to it, then.” 

 

“Yeah,” Clarke said quietly. Jaha gave her an awkward smile and turned back towards the building. Clarke stood there, listening to the sounds of the roads surrounding her, the muffled birds and the dogs barking. Someone was yelling at a kid about breaking a toy. Sirens cut through the din. 

 

The only thing Clarke could think through it all was that she should have listened to Lexa. All those weeks ago, when Lexa told her to change her life, she should have. 

 

Fuck, she needed to see her. Lexa could fix this. Lexa could fix  _ her _ . But, when she drove to the beach that evening, Lexa wasn’t there. 

 

So, Clarke sat on the wall and was silent. She sat and tried to fix herself.

 

**********************

 

A week later, Clarke made her way through the last of the trees and the wall came into sight she heard light, giggling laughter. Who was in their spot? There wasn’t a car parked in the clearing. Clarke’s pain was still with her, she’d spent the week at home with nothing to do except argue with Finn. They were on their last legs and they both knew it. She felt it in her bones and blood as the wall came into sight and the thought of some  _ outsider _ in her and Lexa’s space was just a bit too fucking much. 

 

“Cl-Clarke!” Lexa barely managed to get out between her fits of giggles. Clarke’s jaw fell open slightly at the sight before her. Lexa was sitting on the wall, crossed legged, upper body arched over as she continued to laugh with such glee that Clarke couldn't quite process the scene. Not only had she not seen the woman there for what like forever, after seeing her  _ every _ single day, now at a glance Lexa looked as though she was batshit crazy. 

 

“Lexa...what’s so funny? Where have you been?”

 

“Clar-” the brunette attempted, but gave up and rolled onto her back, her laughter shaking her body, the thud of her back landing on the ground still audible. She’s going to feel that tomorrow.  

 

The movement made Clarke’s eyes drift over to a collection of little canisters scattered on the ground and a what looked like a large, unbranded whipped cream bottle. Lexa’s backpack was tucked neatly against the inner side of the wall as normal but when Clarke saw the small pack of balloons next to it, what she was seeing became clear. She walked the last few paces to Lexa’s side, peering down at the giggling mess in front of her. 

 

“Lex,” she tried again, snapping her fingers in front of her face to no avail. Clarke gave a light sigh and settled on the lip of the wall, letting her feet dangle over the edge, and pulled out Lexa’s bag of supplies from her backpack. The laughing behind her didn’t stop for a good minute as she rolled until  _ finally _ Lexa’s laughs reduced to breathy little gasps which did things to Clarke’s insides. She tried to focus on the joint and not on how sexual Lexa’s gasps were. As she sealed the paper together and reached for her lighter she felt Lexa’s legs move beside her as she shimmed back into place on the wall. 

 

“Hi,” Lexa grinned. Clarke slowly turned to look at her, taking in her wild hair from laying on the ground and the glint in her eye and she felt like another person again. Or, maybe, she felt like herself again. God, she didn’t know anymore. Was she the woman who spent every waking moment in her apartment fighting with Finn? Or was she the woman who came and sat in the secluded spot with a beautiful stranger, getting high and trying to find some kind of fucking purpose? 

 

“Claaaarrrke…” Lexa drawled, reaching over and placing a hand on Clarke’s cheek, gently moving her head so that they were face to face. “Long time no see, huh?” 

 

Clarke winced slightly at the thoughts of all that had happened since she had last seen Lexa. The woman in front of her frowned and tilted her head slightly.

 

“Aren’t you happy to see me? I missed you,” Lexa said, dropping her hands to her lap. She couldn’t keep them still for even a second, it seemed, and she immediately started fiddling with stitching of her jeans. Her lip began to droop in a pout and Clarke’s brain began to stop working again, which was honestly a regular thing around Lexa.

 

“ _ God yes _ I am happy to see you,” Clarke said before she could stop herself. Lexa’s pout turned into a brilliant smile which some sad part of Clarke could tell wasn’t wholly genuine. She was still getting off the laughing gas. She looked down and lit the joint.

 

“You look stressed out, Clarke,” Lexa mused a few seconds later when Clarke passed her the joint. 

 

“Where have you been-”

 

“All your life? You know you don’t need to use cheesy pick-up lines on me, Clarkey.”

 

Clarke couldn’t resist the smile tugging at her lips.

 

“Where have you  _ been _ , Lexa?”

 

“Working. Making money. Contributing to this disaster of a capitalist society.” 

 

“Sounds fun.”

 

“It’s been a fucking ball,” Lexa dismissed as she reached behind her to grab the balloons, a new pack of canisters from her bag and the dispenser. “Try this. Watch.”

 

She fitted the canister inside the dispenser, filled a balloon with a such a sharp, loud and uncomfortable sound Clarke jumped, before grabbing the joint and taking a drag. Lexa immediately detached the balloon, and brought it to her lips, inhaling gas and exhaling the smoke repeatedly. The effect on her was immediate, her eyes lost focus and her face slackened. 

 

“You’re fucked, Lex,” Clarke said with a shake of her head. She’d never had laughing gas before so mixing it with weed really didn’t seem like the best thing for her to try first time. She took back the joint and took a drag as Lexa seemed to try and recover from whatever mess was going on in her brain right then. 

 

“So…” Lexa breathed after a few more moments, gathering another balloon and preparing the canister. “Why have you been so stressed?”

 

“I got fired.” 

 

“Thank fuck for that. Now you can do something you actually  _ want  _  to do.” Clarke wasn’t really sure what to say to that. The whole situation was terrifying. Lexa looked at her, slightly exasperated, “Please don’t tell me you’re upset about it. You hated every second.”

 

“Of course I’m upset! More than upset. I did so much for that fucking company.” 

 

“So? Let them have it, Clarke,” Lexa’s voice was earnest. “You can do so much better. Your art is amazing, you’re an inspiring leader that managed to keep that place going throughout all of their shit. People believe in you.” 

 

This was making Clarke upset. Lexa was being so sincere it made her ache, “Lexa, I-”

 

“Name one person that doesn’t believe you’re brilliant.” 

 

“Finn.”

 

“Fuckboy Finn, hey? What a surprise. He doesn’t count, assholes are excluded.”

 

“ _ Lexa _ .”

  
“Oh, come on Clarke. You can’t seriously-”

 

“Lex, I haven’t done this before.”

 

“Oh, this?” She raised the balloon. “It’s easy, don’t worry, you just breathe in and-”

 

“No, Lex,” Clarke turned completely, resting the joint between her lips and she drew one leg up and threw it over the inner side of the wall, straddling it and fully facing Lexa. “I haven’t ever…” She trailed off, grabbing the joint and gesturing between herself and the brunette; who just frowned. They were silent, how long for Clarke didn’t know, but it appeared that Lexa wasn’t going to say anything. “I haven’t ever gotten feelings for someone else when I’m in a relationship.” 

 

A smirk came over Lexa’s features which made Clarke’s stomach swoop.

 

“Who’s the lucky girl?” 

 

“Some smartass.” 

  
“Strange she’d like someone with such a dirty mouth.”

 

Clarke’s own mouth went dry, “Just like?” She managed to say, licking her lips. Lexa’s eyes dropped at the movement, her hand reaching out and taking the joint from Clarke’s limp fingers. She took a drag, then reached for Clarke’s neck, pulling her into a kiss. Clarke gasped and opened her mouth, inhaling the smoke as Lexa’s tongue slipped between her lips. Already kind of buzzing, the heady combination of Lexa and the smoke made Clarke’s eyes flutter and her hands reach for Lexa’s body, looking for some stability. 

 

She couldn’t process anything. She couldn’t think beyond Lexa: Lexa’s lips, her tongue. Lexa flicking the joint onto the sand, pulling Clarke by the hips to straddle her lap. 

 

Clarke had stumbled on this place by complete chance, when she’d had enough and needed some perspective and she’d found Lexa.

 

Clarke kept coming back to entertain herself with the brunette’s drugs and easy, unique conversation. Returning so that she could hold onto this...purpose. This  _ need _ to be. 

 

Lexa’s gave her that. She made her feel like she had direction amongst the monotonous chaos of her life.

 

What was this? Was this purpose? Clarke’s hips rolled into Lexa as they kissed, breaths becoming short and Lexa’s chest heaving. Isn’t that twisted? She found purpose getting high with a stranger by the beach?

 

But, as Lexa lifted her slightly and they both stood, stumbling back towards the trees and her car, Clarke didn’t care. 

 

Fuck Finn. Fuck her mum. 

 

Lexa’s gave her something neither of them did. That no one in her ordinary, unremarkable life could. 

 

And Clarke wasn’t going to let her get away. No fucking way. 

  
  
  
  
  



End file.
